All The Devils Are Here
by Lizzie9
Summary: Hell is empty and all the devils are here. If that were true, she'd rather be in Hell. Confronting her past was going to get them both killed. Every time she got in his bed, she put him in danger, but she couldn't stop herself. Somewhere between his truth and her lies, the unspoken feelings and betrayals, there was redemption, and a chance at a future. T/Z


**AN: We're baaaaaaack. We are currently working on a new chapter for 'The Best Laid Plans' and thinking of embarking on a season 4 re-write that puts Tony and Ziva sleeping together when he's assigned to date Jeanne (Jesus take the wheel), but this kind of came into our heads and we sort of couldn't stop talking about it, so we decided to roll with it. The tense we're writing in may change, but this felt right for a disjointed, disorienting opening chapter. Chapters will get longer. Review? Please?**

She doesn't seem to know what do with her hands. They're in his hair, they're on his shoulder, and they're clutching at his sheets. He loves to see her like this; on edge, her usually rigid self-control left far behind. Her curly hair is dark against his pillows and he can't stop staring at it, torn between how perfect it feels to be with and how scared he is that this will be the last time.

His name escapes her lips and it's the best thing he's ever heard. His bed is shaking now, and his phone flies off the night stand. Had he noticed, he wouldn't have cared. It's impossible to notice anything but her, and he knows the giant distraction that is his partner is starting to become obvious, but he doesn't care about that either.

She waits until she can breathe before she rolls off his bed when they're finished. He frowns. "Ziva," he says, sitting up and moving over to her side of the bed, where she still stands. She hasn't walked away yet. He sits on the edge of his bed, and she stands before him, still naked. The corner of his mouth turns up sheepishly as he sees the bruise forming on her hip. "Sorry," he murmurs, tracing it with his fingers.

Ziva smiles in the way only Ziva can. "Doesn't hurt." She bends down and kisses him quickly before retreating to the bathroom. Tony falls back on his bed and sighs. He wants to tell her that whatever this thing between them, it's not enough. He wants all of her, all the time. He's so tired of the constant anxiety that one day she'll just stop giving him that look across the squad room, that one day she'll just stop knocking on his door or texting him to come over.

He wants to tell her but he chokes on the words every time. It's pathetic. Their years together are closing in on a decade; by now he usually knows how to read her, but not about this. She has become, in many ways, an extension of him, but he can't read this. He wants to tell her but the fear of her reaction scares him too much.

Since they've met, they have been adversaries, rivals, partners, friends, lovers. He has said almost everything to her; jokes, innuendo, orders, pleas. He has never spoken to anyone as gently as he does to her when she needs comfort. He has confessed secrets, spilled his guts, told outright lies, slurred drunken whispers of affection, and hurled vicious insults. After all this, he still can't bring himself to say what he wants the most.

When she steps out of the bathroom in her underwear, he feels dizzy. He can't think, he can't look away. It takes the buzzing of his phone on the floor under his bed to snap him out of the space she consumes entirely.

Her eyebrows lift and they both know it can only be one person calling in the middle of the night. Tony scrambles to retrieve his phone from the floor before it stops ringing.

"Yea boss?"

"We got a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Tony asks, already not liking Gibbs' tone.

On the other end of the line, Gibbs sighs. He's not sure how far gone rule number twelve is, but he's not stupid and he sees it hacked to pieces every day. Some days, it's just little nicks in his rule; a glance, a smile, an unsolicited cup of coffee. Other days, when they're sneaking to the parking garage or the evidence locker and returning twenty minutes later, it's a hatchet job. He doesn't want to tell Tony about the chatter, and the body, so he doesn't.

"Just get here." Gibbs says, hanging up. He stares at his phone in his hand, debating whether he should bother calling Ziva, or just see if she shows up with Tony, and end the charade, but he knows that she is too smart for that, so he dials her anyway. Same message. Get here. Now.

* * *

Ziva can feel his eyes on her as she stands in front of his mirror, trying to make it look like she hasn't spent the last two hours having sex with her partner. She feels the guilt twist inside of her; she knows she is being evasive, and guarded and at times a bit cold, because she knows what he will say when she finally drops her armor and she can't let him say it. Not yet.

Her thoughts are so consumed by him that she doesn't realize she's made it to NCIS and parked her car until Tony knocks on her windshield. "Ziva," he says in a tone that suggests he's had to say it several times, "Let's go."

Ziva is sent upstairs the moment they get there, which is never a good sign. It puts Tony on edge immediately, and Gibbs and McGee can sense the tension. "What's going on?" he asks tightly. His stomach clenches as the seconds tick by and no one answers him.

She's lying through her teeth. No she doesn't know what's going on. No, she's never seen any of these people. No, no, no. She doesn't relish lying to Vance, and even after all of this time she hates lying to her father, but she needs more time.

_What have I done?_

It runs through her head over and over and over, like a chorus. She feels a tight, clenching rage as Vance and her father's voice through the phone talk about her like she's not sitting there. _This is your fault, _she thinks to her father's voice. _You could have had a daughter and you chose to have a killer, and I've killed more people than I can count, and now- what have I done? _

"Ziva," her father says, cutting into her thoughts, "You are sure you have no idea, no indication of who could be doing this?"

She knows that Vance can see her jaw tighten in anger. _It could be anyone, _she wants to scream. _Anyone who loved someone I killed and now they've come to take what I love. _But she doesn't scream. She just says no again, and rationalizes that it's not entirely false. She really doesn't know anything yet. She needs more time.

* * *

His gut never lies. Gibbs usually listens to his gut, but tonight he doesn't have a choice. His gut is saying to send Tony far away from autopsy, but he has no choice.

Tony wishes they would stop looking at him like that; Gibbs and McGee are both staring at him with expressions he's never seen on their faces before. As the doors slide open, Ducky looks darkly at Gibbs, before his eyes settle on Tony as well.

"Aren't we waiting for Ziva?" Tony asks, if only to break the uncomfortable silence that's settled over autopsy.

"She'll meet us down here." McGee says gently. Tony's eyebrow shoots up in McGee's direction. Tim just averts his eyes.

"OK," Tony says finally, a humorless grin flashing on his face. It's not his real smile, it's what Ziva calls the DiNozzo default. Even devoid of humor, his standing expression is that infamous family grin. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Anthony…." Ducky starts, but he's interrupted by a commotion and the doors opening. Jimmy is scrambling through the door, holding his glasses in his hands while pulling his scrub top over his head.

"Dr. Mallard! I came as soon as I got your message," he says tugging the fabric over his head. "Does Agent DiNozzo know yet?"

Even Tony has to crack a smile when Jimmy put his glasses on and blinks at them, like he's not sure if the three agents are actually there, or if this is just a bad dream. Gibbs is delivering a slap to the back of Palmer's head before Tony can ask what's going on.

"Thank you, Mr. Palmer," Ducky says. "Anthony," he starts again, "Please don't leap to the worst of conclusions-"

Tony cuts him off with a sound, but doesn't speak for a moment. His gut is twisting and his heart suddenly feels like it's pounding and in that moment he has no idea what's coming, but he feels like it's already happened.

"What?" he snaps. It's worse every second they leave him standing there, because realistic possibilities are floating in and out of his head, and his cop instincts are kicking in.

Gibbs looks at Ducky and gives him an almost imperceptible nod, and at the exact moment it dawns on Tony that there has to be a reason they're in autopsy, Ducky reaches for a drawer, and pulls out one body, then another, then a third.

It's relief Tony feels at first, until he decides to look at them. He looks at the bodies, and then back at Gibbs and McGee, wondering if they can see on his face the way his heart is exploding in his chest right now.

There are three girls. With stars of David carved into their chests. And they all look like Ziva.


End file.
